Power Play: A Second Chance Hockey Romance (Sinners on the Ice)
Power Play: A Second Chance Hockey Romance: Chapter 38

Now, April

Waking up wrapped in Clay’s arms might be my favorite thing ever, especially since it’s not something that happens very often during hockey season. I learned how to cherish every minute we spend together, always replaceing new ways to have fun and never feel bored. But some days, it’s all about slow mornings, staying in bed for a while, talking, or cuddling while Maya is still asleep.

It’s all about the happiness that has laced my life and tied it with his.

I hope for good because I’m a little bit obsessed with my man.

Or more than a little bit.

“Mommy!” The door opens with a bang, and I abruptly sit up in bed. My slow morning has been flushed down the toilet because Maya decided it’s time for all of us to wake up.

“What is it, sweetheart?” I rub my eyes, finally focusing my attention on her. She stands in the doorframe in her pink PJs, her hair a morning mess.

“Someone is knocking on the door.”

That gets Clay to sit up in bed. He seems even more bewildered than I was a few moments ago.

“Someone at the door?” he asks, sounding muffled. His big palm is pressed to his mouth as he hides his yawn.

“Yeah.” Maya nods and lowers her gaze to her feet. That’s when I really look at her, sweeping my gaze over her body. She has one of her hands behind her back, and I think I know what I’ll replace there.

With a sigh, I toss the blanket aside and stand up from the bed. I stomp over to her and extend my hand, staring at her expectantly. She pouts, annoyed with me.

“Maya,” I say sternly.

“I wanted play.” She puts my phone in my outstretched palm. I unlock the screen, and my insides churn—I’m fucking mortified. It’s almost 11:00 a.m.

“Maya!” I rush to the walk-in closet, change into a white tee and denim overalls, and barrel out of the room. Shit, shit, shit! I’m going to have a big talk with her today because this is unacceptable.

Swinging the front door open, I’m met with two delivery guys staring at me like I’m some sort of ghost.

“I’m so, so sorry.” I storm out of the house, round them, and stalk down the stairs, heading to the garage. “My kid turned off all my alarms—she was trying to play.”

“No worries, ma’am,” one of the guys drawls.

Everything’s going to be all right, Layla. It’s a little hiccup. You still have time to finish your work, I tell myself, controlling my facial expression.

“We’re here to help.” The guy smiles.

“So good to know.” I open the garage door, and the other guy, who’s kept silent, shoves the papers I need to sign into my hands. I show them where to put my order and then stand there, reading the document, while they stock my garage with flowers and the other supplies I ordered.

By the time they’re gone twenty minutes later, I’ve already read the document twice, signed it, and now I’m dreaming of coffee. It’s all I need to wake up properly…and maybe Clay’s pancakes. They’re a delicious miracle, and Maya loves them way more than mine. Though I’m not entirely sure about that. She knows what we want to hear from her and says exactly that to each of us. Sometimes she tells Clay and me different things within the span of an hour because she doesn’t want to offend either of us.

“Maya,” I say in a threatening tone of voice so she knows to listen. She can’t take my phone without asking, and she can’t just turn off my alarm. I have an important order that I need to finish today, and these flowers are a huge part of it.

Maya sits at the kitchen table, swinging her legs back and forth. A plate of five pancakes is in front of her, with a good chunk of Nutella on top. Her sippy cup is pressed to her lips when I stomp over to her.

“That’s not okay what you did. What if you hadn’t heard them knocking on the door? The flowers would’ve f—” Shit! I’m doing my best not to curse in her presence, and I almost did. Dammit.

A hand wraps around my waist from behind, and Clay pulls me into his chest, crowding me with his broad frame. I shiver when he lowers his head to my ear, his hot breath fanning over my skin.

“I already talked to her, and Maya is very sorry,” he murmurs soothingly.

“I am! Mommy, please, I’m sorry. I wanted play.”

“She promised me that she won’t sneak into our room anymore and that she won’t take your phone or mine without permission. She knows what she did is wrong. Right, Princess?”

She nods, her eyes big and pleading.

“Everything’s fine, Mama.”

My muscles grow soft as I lean my back into his chest. I can’t be mad at her for long, not when he makes sure to talk to her about her behavior—in a gentler way than I do because I often get overwhelmed by my emotions. While he is her best friend.

“Mommy, eat pancakes. They are so yummy,” Maya exclaims, smiling at me from ear to ear. The corners of her mouth are covered in Nutella, but I don’t think she cares. She takes another bite, closing her eyes when she starts chewing. “So yummy.”

I look up, replaceing his mischievous yellowish-green eyes focused on me. He lowers his head to mine and kisses me on the lips. “I don’t think I had a chance to say good morning.”

“Good morning, Clay.” My gaze roams over the kitchen as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “Any chance I can have a coffee?”

“As if you needed to ask.” Clay playfully pushes me away. “Go sit. I’ll take care of everything.”

I do as he tells me, not wasting any chance to be his good girl—something he tells me in a breathy whisper anytime he praises me.

“Though my breakfast will be super quick.” I sigh, twisting my lips. “I still have five bouquets to make, and the delivery Dylan ordered will be here in less than two hours.”

After I realized I have nothing to worry about when it comes to Dylan, and after she took it upon herself to reassure me that she isn’t interested in my man and is actually dating his teammate, my heart melted. Now she’s not only my most loyal customer but also a future WAG of Dean Crawford. The ring on her finger is fucking huge. The guy is head over heels in love with her, so it didn’t surprise anyone when he proposed after just five months of dating.

Clay sets a plate of pancakes on the table, along with a mug of black coffee. A smiley face with blueberries for eyes, whipped cream for a mouth, and half of a strawberry for a nose stares up at me. I chuckle, picking up the strawberry and tossing it into my mouth.

“Eat, Layla, and then we’re going to help you.” He sits down beside me, his bowl full of oatmeal with strawberries and apple slices. “Someone here wants to be on their mommy’s good side.”

Maya’s cheeks redden, and she presses her chin to her chest, a huge smile on her face.

Shaking my head, I pick up my mug from the table and take a sip.

Mornings like this one might be my favorites.

I hold the final bouquet I made, looking at it from different angles. The sun streaming into the garage makes the colors pop. It’s beautiful.

When I talked to Dylan about the theme for her birthday party, all she said was that she wanted peonies and roses, and that the color scheme would be a soft palette of blush and white. After some brainstorming and getting her approval on about twenty different bouquets, she chose this one to put on the tables in glass vases. Gorgeous white roses, white carnations, blush alstroemeria, and lavender stock. Baby’s breath and greenery add an accent that looks absolutely stunning, blending all the colors together: white, light purple, pastel pink, and green.

“So beautiful.” Maya sits on the table with Bon-Bon pressed to her chest. The toy has been through a lot since she takes it with her everywhere. Once, Clay even rescued it from Cooper’s dog bed when we had him to our place for a sleepover when Angie went to the hospital. We never told Maya, but I mended the tear in Bon-Bon’s leg with some pink thread and a needle. Thankfully, she never noticed the stitches.

His soft lips press to my forehead. Clay stands beside me, an armful of pastel pink peonies gathered in his hands.

“You did a great job.” He glances at the clock on the wall. “And we even finished ahead of your deadline. We make a great team. A team of little helpers.”

“Even better than the Thunders?” I tease him, adding the bouquet to the pile of flowers for the party.

“Ask me after the playoffs.” I pinch my eyebrows together. My bottom lip protrudes. Clay sees it and starts laughing. “You two are the best team in the world. The Thunders will always be second, even if we—hypothetically—win the Stanley Cup final.”

“Not if.” I press my cheek to his shoulder. “When you win the Stanley Cup. I have no doubt.”

“Hope you’re right.” Clay winds one hand around my waist and ruffles Maya’s hair with the other. “To have my girls cheering for me will be fantastic.”

My mind flashes a memory in front of my eyes, the one that still makes my heart squeeze in my chest, so overwhelmed with love and happiness.

The place is packed. I hear people’s laughter, conversations, and pleasant music in the background. Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the space in golden colors. The day is unusually sunny for the beginning of February, and everyone appears happy about it. Except me. My mood is all over the place, simply because I’m dreading the meeting I’m about to have.

If he shows up, that is.

Clay’s arm drapes over my shoulders, and he pulls me to his side. He hides his nose in my hair and inhales deeply. “Stop worrying. It’s going to be all right. I’m here with you.”

“Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves? You heard what the lawyer said: to initiate the process, we need to be married. And we’re not there yet…with hockey, and my plans to open my shop in August⁠—”

“Layla, his band is playing in Santa Clara tonight. We won’t need to chase him all over the country. We can sit and talk like adults.”

The bell rings, and my eyes instinctively snap toward the entrance. His blues stare at me; an unreadable mask is on his face. Squaring his shoulders, Eli pauses for a second by the door, then shakes his head and walks toward our table. Without saying anything, he lowers himself into the chair across from Clay and me.

“Hey. Thank you for coming,” I chirp, clearing my throat. It sounds so fake.

“Hi,” Eli grumbles.

My eyes roam over his face, and I purse my lips tighter. Her hair color isn’t the only thing Maya got from him after all. The tip of his nose is a bit upturned and moves whenever he speaks. The curve of his mouth is similar to mine, but his is more prominent, just like on her face.

“I see you finally got what you wanted. After years of pining after the girl who wanted everyone else but you,” Eli quips.

Clay chuckles. “I don’t think that even deserves an answer, but you’re wrong. Life is full of new meetings, new connections. Some people are here to stay forever, but some are like pit stops. They bring us experience, teach us a lesson, and then we move forward, leaving them behind once they’ve fulfilled their purpose.” I turn my head to him, and he smiles reassuringly. “Layla and I were always meant to be, while you were a pit stop along the way.”

After a short pause, Eli leans his back in his chair. “Why am I here?”

“Because”—I pull out the paper I’ve prepared for him and put it on the table—“I need you to sign this.”

Eli grabs the document, his features narrowing as he reads. “What is this?”

“Your written consent for adoption.”

“You already have sole custody,” he deadpans. “Why this?”

“Because I want to adopt Maya. I want to be her dad in every way possible,” Clay replies, and my heart skips a beat. I thought I was going to pass out when I heard him say that for the first time. “She’s mine. My little Princess. I want to make it official.”

“And why would I sign this?” Eli bites out. His usually deep voice is high-pitched.

“Because you don’t deserve to be her dad. You never did,” Clay hisses, setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. “Maya is amazing. She’s smart and funny and so fucking lovable. I’ve never met a person who’d be indifferent about her…except you. You don’t deserve to be her dad. Sign it.”

Eli drags his hand down his face, then stares daggers at Clay. I sit silently, thinking about the best approach. Then, with trembling hands, I take my phone out of my purse, unlock it, and put it on the table. Eli’s eyes fall to the picture, and I notice how the column of his throat twitches.

“That’s our daughter. She’s two years and eight months old. Her favorite color is pink. Her favorite food is the cupcakes that Drake’s fiancée bakes for her. Her favorite toy is a bright pink unicorn that Clay made for her, and she never leaves the house without it. She loves fairy tales and will easily bully you into reading one more chapter.

“She’s very smart for her age, and she also knows a lot about flowers, especially peonies, because I was taking her with me when I needed to work. She was in her bouncer, watching me make bouquets while I told her everything I know about flowers. She loves dogs and cats, and she has about five best friends at her preschool. But her best, best friend is Clay. The secrets she tells him, she doesn’t even say to me. She loves him, and he loves her back just as much, while you…you signed over sole custody without a single question. You chose not to have us in your life, and now I’m asking you to choose a better future for our daughter. Sign the papers, Eli. Please.”

He stares out the window; his gaze is glassy. Then he peers at me. “Do you have a pen?”

I nod, take a pen out of my purse, and give it to him. Eli reads the papers through once again, signs, and pushes them back over to me. Without another word, he stands up and hovers over us.

“Where is she?” he asks in a rasp.

“With my friend and her husband.” When I called Nevaeh and asked if she could watch Maya, she agreed immediately. It wasn’t even an hour before Roman was knocking on our front door. Clay and I have the best friends.

Eli’s eyes zero in on my hand on the table. “I don’t see a wedding ring.”

“We aren’t—” I start, but Clay cuts me off.

“I’m going to marry her one day, and when it happens, you’ll know.”

For the first time since Eli walked into this coffee shop, I see a smile forming on his lips. “Okay.” He takes a step forward and hesitates. “Take care of them, Clay.”

With that, he walks to the door and then disappears. A signed adoption consent form is lying on the table.

“Mommy, your phone calls.”

I blink, returning to reality. Maya points to my phone, which is vibrating on the countertop.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say and go pick it up. It must be the delivery Dylan ordered. I better hurry up.

We need to get ready for this party, and I still haven’t chosen a dress.